


Waverider Wanderings

by SophiaCatherine



Series: At Home with the Legends [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Autistic Mick Rory, Autistic Ray Palmer, Disabled Character, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Slice of Life, Team as Family, Trans Character, drabbles set on the waverider, lots of zamaya, quite a bit of atomwave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-01-05 16:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 12,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12193440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaCatherine/pseuds/SophiaCatherine
Summary: 'Legends of Tomorrow' shorts/ficlets that were posted on tumblr first - various characters and pairings. Each chapter title shows pairing (or gen). Chapter content warnings are in chapter endnotes.





	1. What Works for You (Gen, Team Legends)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his chronic pain, Jax isn't the only disabled person on the Waverider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a headcanon someone shared on tumblr: that Jax loves the rush of flying because it’s like running but without the knee pain...

Jax’s knee hurts whenever he takes off and lands, and he never pretends it doesn’t. He’s happy to be who he is: both Firestorm and a regular guy with chronic pain. (He’s getting good at living in two worlds.)

When Jax wakes up in pain (on mornings when _someone_ has turned down the Waverider thermostat _again_ for god’s sake Len), he sits in the kitchen and talks disability stuff with Nate. Nate loves disability theory. Jax tells him about how he sometimes misses the thrill of running, the speed and the power - but it is what it is, man. (“Right, exactly,” Nate says, wide-eyed.) Sometimes Ray comes by and they chat about autism pride and the neurodiversity movement. (“Sidney used to say it was stupid to be proud of something that made me stupid,” he mumbles, playing with his oatmeal.) Mick, mostly silent except for the occasional “hmph,” might finally risk a comment - the others are quiet while he struggles to articulate it. Sara (who is working on being OK with taking meds) occasionally perches on the counter behind them, swinging her legs and sharpening her knives. And if Len wanders in and focuses _very hard_ on making coffee and _not_ on thinking about a hand that doesn’t always feel like his own, leaning near the door with practiced nonchalance long after the pot has gone cold, no one says anything.

It’s them against an ableist society, but they have each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am of course aware that none of these characters clearly identities as disabled in canon.
> 
> Title from the quote by disability activist Stella Young: “The thing about living with any disability is that you adapt; you do what works for you.”
> 
> Content warnings: references to ableism.


	2. Movie Night (ColdAtom - Leonard Snart/Ray Palmer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len has terrible taste in movies. Ray is amused.

“I never would have started dating you if I’d known how bad your taste in movies was.” **  
**

Ray is standing in the entrance to the galley. Leonard is sitting at the large table, in front of a laptop, a spoonful of Ben & Jerry’s halfway to his mouth. He’s side-eyeing Ray, frozen. 

Ray grins. He slides behind Leonard and puts his arms around his waist. “The great Captain Cold,” he says, with a dramatic flourish. “Infamous wielder of the mighty cold gun. Scoundrel of Central. Arch-nemesis of the Flash.”

Leonard narrows his eyes and sighs, but he’s apparently willing to humour him.

“The ice king. The Rogue. A legend among miscreants.” He runs his hand over Leonard’s close-cropped hair. “The tale of terror that superhero parents tell little superheroes to get them to behave,” he goes on, ignoring Len’s mumbled protest at the last one. “Invincible vanquisher of death itself. Is watching…  _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_.” Ray peers at the screen. “The ‘90s original, no less.”

“Are you done, Raymond?” Leonard growls.

“Hmm.” Ray thinks. “I may be out. For now.”

Len scoops up a spoonful of Phish Food. “Good,” he says, shoving it into Ray’s mouth. “Now shut up and sit down.”

Ray squeals through a full mouth. “I am not watching this!”

“Oh, come on, Raymond.” Leonard gives him a rare grin, his eyes sparkling. “For me.”

Ray melts - right along with the ice cream. “It’s a  _terrible_  movie,” he protests, but he’s already pulling up a chair behind Leonard. He rests his head on Leonard’s shoulder.

“You only think that because it was a bit before your time.”

“It is not. I was, what, 9 when this came out. Everyone in my class loved it. It just wasn’t my thing.” He glares at Leonard. “And you must have been 20 when you first saw this!”

“Not quite, but thanks for that,” Leonard says drily. He points at the screen. “Observe, Raymond. Michelangelo. The original  _dude_ ,” he drawls, grabbing another spoon of ice cream. “You’ll like him. He states the obvious all the time, too.”

Ray pouts. “You’re not cute, you know.”

“Oh but I am,” Leonard says, smoothly, and Ray turns his head to look at him. His beautiful, captivating lover - with the truly terrible taste in movies. Ray kisses him.

“Eyes on the movie, Raymond,” Leonard says as he pulls away - but then he’s kissing back.

“I think not,” Ray says, when they eventually come up for air.

Leonard shrugs. “Well. I’ve seen it before.”

Ray smirks. “How many times?”

“…Never mind.”

“Your ice cream’s melting.”

“Let it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: food.


	3. Flame (AtomWave - Ray Palmer/Mick Rory)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of 'Necromancing the Stone,' Ray goes to check on Mick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “If you can’t sleep…then how about we have sex?”  
> (I went for a non-verbatim interpretation. It’s Ray, after all.)
> 
> Spoilers for 3x15 'Necromancing the Stone.'

****By time Amaya cornered Ray in the kitchen, Mick’s hand had been on fire for six hours.

“He’s not listening to me,” she said. “Could you try? Over-using a totem can be really exhausting,” she mused, her tone heavy with experience. “And he’s had no time to master it yet.”

Ray buzzed Mick’s door.

“Yeah?” came the familiar grunt of a grumpy pyromaniac, with more of a tired edge than usual.

Mick was lying on his bench and staring up at his hand, still on fire.

Ray crouched down next to the bench by his head. “Hey.”

Mick didn’t answer. Hesitating briefly, Ray waved a hand in front of Mick’s face.

“Fuck’s sake, Haircut,” Mick grumbled in response. “I ain’t out.”

“Well, I don’t know!” Ray protested. “You get into those trances, with fire.”

Mick sat up slowly, but he didn’t tear his gaze away from the flame. “This is different,” he said.

Ray sat back on his heels, watching Mick with some of the same intensity. The flaming hand was nothing compared with the look on Mick’s face. “Different how?”

“It’s like…” Mick hesitated.

To Ray, whose mind worked at a pace a speedster might envy, the pause was infinite. A dozen ways of finishing the sentence hurtled through his head at once. He stomped down on the urge to speak for Mick, though. 

Eventually, Mick found the words. “It’s like every other flame I ever looked at was just -” He shook his head. “Not real. Not real like this is.” Swallowing, he added, “Like this is the one I’ve been - waiting for.”

Ray smiled at him. He let a bold hand reach out to cover Mick’s - the one that wasn’t on fire. Mick let him. “You know Amaya thinks you shouldn’t be doing this for too long, right?”

“Yeah, she said,” Mick replied, his voice distracted again.

“You should go to bed,” Ray tried.

“Don’t think I could sleep.”

Ray hummed. “Well. If you can’t sleep, we could always try doing… other things.”

Mick slowly turned his head to look at him. “Like I’ve told you, Haircut. If you can’t say it, we ain’t doing it.”

“Got your attention though, didn’t I?” Ray grinned.

Mick snorted. He stared at Ray, and something crossed his face that Ray couldn’t identify. He felt Mick pull his hand away from Ray’s. Ray dropped his eyes at the familiar rejection - then raised them again in surprise. Mick was touching his face, looking at him with gentle concentration. Ray repressed a few more things he suddenly had the urge to say, which he suspected would not go over well right now.

“Sorry,” Mick was mumbling, his hand still brushing against Ray’s face.

Ray frowned at him. “For what?”

Mick wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I should’a stayed with you. When you asked me to help. I was -”

This time Ray couldn’t hold back from finishing Mick’s thought for him. “Bored?” he said, eyebrows raised, with a stab of remembered frustration. (And - sadness, maybe? Huh.)

Mick shrugged. “Not really. Been havin’ a week, you know?” Ray nodded, a little sadly. “I’m a shit sometimes. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt…” He trailed off, and his eyes were suddenly fixed on something very far away. “Sorry,” he muttered again.

“I’m fine, Mick,” Ray reassured him. He considered saying  _this is a lot of apologies, for you_ , and thought better of it.

Mick’s eyes started to droop. He let his head fall onto his knees, even as he stubbornly kept his hand raised and burning - by whatever mechanism he was doing that.

Ray suppressed a laugh. He let his hand hover as near to Mick’s flaming one as he could stand to. “Go to sleep, Mick. Totem’ll still be there in the morning.”

“Mmm,” Mick replied. He closed his hand. His eyes flared orange, just for a second. The flame went out.

Ray tried to keep the awe out of his face, but it was probably showing. No harm - Mick was on the verge of sleep.

“You wanna stay?” Mick murmured.

Ray gave the narrow training bench a pointed look. “As soon as you get a bed, I’ll consider it.”

“Your place, then?”

Ray laughed quietly. “Think you can make it there? It’s a whole two doors away.”

In answer, Mick dragged himself off the bench. “I’m up.” Ray stood up, and Mick leant against him. “Lead the way, Sir Raymond.”

Ray grunted. “Wow, Mick. How much do you  _weigh_?” He ignored Mick’s irritated stare in favour of groaning, as Mick slumped against him a little more. “I could get the ATOM suit - okay, fine, we’re going.” Whatever terrifying non-verbal communication Mick was using, he had clearly mastered it better than Ray. For two neurodivergent people, they were awfully different, Ray mused. At least, he did until his hyperactive brain shut up under the weight of his pyromaniac.

Or maybe just from the closeness of him.  _A spark of that immortal fire with angels shared…_

“Ray?” Mick said sleepily, as they made it into his own room.

Ray half-dropped him on the bed, sitting down next to him as he snuggled under blankets. “Yeah, Mick?”

Mick carefully took the totem off from around his neck. “Keep this safe for me? I don’t wanna wake up from a nightmare and set the ship alight.”

Ray’s eyes widened and he took it from him reverentially. “Mick. Are you sure? I don’t know what to say. I mean, yes, of course - I’ll defend it with my very life - I mean we certainly don’t want to remember this as the day the human race was nearly destroyed by the weapons they’d built to protect themselves, but -”

“Oh just shut up and take it, you weird fucking nerd.”

Ray laughed, shutting up and doing that - locking it away in the trunk under his bed, between a picture of Anna, and his copy of the book illustration of Sir Raymond of the Palms. (Well, it was the safest place he could think of.)

Then he tucked himself into bed next to his snoring totem bearer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to [Tobyaudax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobyaudax/pseuds/Tobyaudax) for reading this over for me!


	4. Hebden Bridge (zamaya - Zari Tomaz/Amaya Jiwe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amaya and Zari are sent on a very specific mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “How is my wife more badass than me?”
> 
> NB: This is currently-unrequited zamaya. Apparently, I can’t write anything else. It’s happy fluff with possible future zamaya, though!

 

“All right, people!” Sara announces. “Here’s what up today.”

They’re all crowded around the console, staring at a map of the British Isles.

“Mallus’s followers are currently hiding out and marshalling their forces in Hebden Bridge, UK, 1997. We think they’ve managed to draw the community around them for support. So we’re going to need to infiltrate the town.”

Ray bounces. “Easy! I did that with Kendra in the ‘50s. I can totally look domestic enough. Who wants to play my other half?”

Reclining on the study floor behind them, Mick raises a lazy hand.

Sara ignores him and ploughs on. “And as great as you two were at acting the married couple,” she replies to Ray, “this is going to be a little bit different.”

Wally looks interested. “Different how?”

In a tone that she hopes emphasises much respect, Sara says, “Hebden Bridge is known for being the lesbian capital of the UK.”

Mick chokes on his beer.

Sara ignores him again. “So, I’ve asked Amaya and Zari if they’d pose as a married couple for this mission.”

Amaya shoots Nate an apologetic, just-taking-one-for-the-team look.

Zari  _beams_. She snuggles closer to her fake wife, who laughs and takes Zari’s hand.

Nate scowls some more.

Sara ignores them all. “Gideon, can you bring up the map of the town? I suggest that we move you two into a house here,” she says, pointing at the console, “at the centre of the community. Now, for reasons that I’m not going into, since the rest of you don’t need to know,” and here the rest of the Legends whine a bit, “we’re gonna need one of you ladies to pose as ex-paramilitary.”

“Um,” Wally says, looking from Zari to Amaya and back to Zari again. “Them?”

Amaya stares at him. “ _Triple_  black belt,” she says, in a tone that reflects this status.

Wally’s speed-nodding is simultaneously very impressed and very nervous.

Sara ignores them. “If you’ll all pay attention,  _please_ , thank you. Zari’s a badass, so I’m putting her in the ex-paramilitary role.” She smiles encouragingly at the increasingly pleased-looking Zari. “You’re gonna do great.”

Amaya turns her stare slowly on Sara.  _Oh no._  “How,” she demands slowly, folding her arms, “is my wife more badass than me?”

Next to her, Zari giggles.

Amaya is wearing a look that Sara thinks probably translates to certain death if she answers this wrong.

“That’s not… exactly what I said,” Sara mumbles.

Nate’s scowl deepens. “I think,” he says, “that if anyone is going to be the badass in this  _obviously completely fake_  couple, it’s gonna be Amaya.”

“No way!” Ray says, clapping Zari on the shoulder supportively. “Zari’s the most badass lesbian you ever met.”

“ _Triple_  black belt,” Amaya just repeats, her arms still folded.

Zari’s grin is wicked.

Around the console, animated arguing descends into chaos.

“HEY!” Sara yells.

The team all stop talking and put on their most apologetic _we’re very professional Legends really_  faces.

“Who’s the captain?” Sara asks, in a routine that they know well. They all point reluctantly at her. With the exception of Mick, who just rolls his eyes from the floor. “All right then.” She shifts into an attempt at a Yorkshire accent, though it probably comes out closer to whatever the hell it is Constantine speaks. “Ey up, me ducks. We’ll be right. Let’s get these lasses to Yorkshire -” she drops the terrible accent to continue “- and moved in together on their second date like proper lesbians.” She slaps the console to signal briefing over. “Zari’s the ex-paramilitary badass. Amaya’s the -”

“Personal trainer?” Amaya interrupts hopefully. “Professional soccer player? At least tell me I get to be a really hot carpenter.”

“Pharmacist,” Sara informs her apologetically.

Amaya sighs and then shrugs. “I can make it work,” she says. She puts an arm around Zari. “Ready to take the lesbian world by storm, love?”

Zari  _beams_  again.

They start to drift away from the console, Amaya letting go of Zari just as Nate grabs Amaya’s arm, a little too protectively for Sara’s liking.

Mick gets up and slaps Zari on the arm. “Make it happen,” Sara distinctly hears him whisper to Zari. Zari grins back at him, in what Sara suddenly reads as mlm/wlw solidarity.

_Oh no._

Zari sweeps past her and smiles. “This is gonna be so much fun,” she says conspiratorially, just to Sara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the sequel, which I do not have time to write, Zari and Amaya are going to get together (obviously, that’s how fake dating fanfic tropes _go_ ), just after Nate realises he and Amaya are wrong for each other and he hooks up with Mick, who he has realised is his soulmate. When, a few months later, Ray joins them in this relationship, no one is surprised.


	5. April Fools (Gen & background Zari Tomaz/Amaya Jiwe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt asked for a de-aged fic, which I am incapable of writing. So here's Zari, Amaya and Ray _acting_ like children. In the direction of Mick, who is sometimes, though not often, the only adult on this ship.

“Are you really sure you want to do this?” Amaya hisses from where she’s crouched on the floor in the Waverider corridor. “Last chance to turn back!”

Zari leans against the wall, holding a kit bag across one arm, pulling chips out of a bag stuffed into her pocket with the other hand. “Stop panicking, love. This is gonna be cool.”

Ray’s door opens and he sticks his head out. “Hi, ladies!” he says, beaming. “So… why are you arguing outside my door?”

In answer, Amaya grabs Zari by one arm and Ray by the other, and drags them both into Ray’s room. (“Hey, watch my chips!” Zari protests.) The door slides shut behind them.

“We’re on a mission,” Amaya says to Ray in a stage whisper.

Eyes growing wide, Ray says, “Ooh. What mission?”   


Zari rolls her eyes, jumping on the desk and fishing out another chip. “Ignore her, she’s being silly.”

Amaya giggles and pokes Zari (she squeaks). “Isn’t ‘silly’ the point of this?”

Ray looks back and forth between them blankly. “Hello?” he tries.

Leaning in towards him, Amaya whispers “We’re going to prank Mick!”

Zari shakes her head with a tragic expression. “Amaya, you are literally in a soundproofed room. And apparently you’re twelve.” She turns back to Ray. “April 1st,” she explains. “Gideon’s calendar. Today. We only just realised.”

“Oh!” Ray says, wide-eyed. “I love April Fool’s. One year, when I was twelve, Tommy Pearson told me school was cancelled, and I went home, and I got in big trouble. It was great. And one year,” he says, grinning wide as the proverbial fool, “my friends rigged the door of the classroom with a bucket of ice cold water and persuaded me to go in first. And one year -"

“Ray,” Zari interrupts, and pats him on the shoulder. “We’re on a deadline here. We have seven minutes while Mick is in the shower. Later, you can tell me how you were the victim of every April Fool’s prank in your hometown from 1983 until you became a superhero.”

“And a couple after that,” he admits. Then he stands to attention and salutes Amaya, apparently assigning mission captaincy to her at random. “Mission orders, Captain?”

“Okay, Ray’s in!” Amaya crows.

“Aww,” Zari says, pouting a bit. “I thought this was, like, a date activity.”

Amaya puts her hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, you’re so cute.”

Next to them, Ray coughs into a fist. “Didn’t you say we were on a deadline, captain ma’am?”

“Okay,” Amaya says, slapping the desk next to Zari. (A couple of chips fly out of the bag and she glares at Amaya.) “Here’s how it’s going down. We’ve got-” she checks her watch and holds up four fingers “-four minutes. When Mick gets out of the shower, his clothes and all but one towel will be gone.” (Zari slaps her kit bag with a mischievous smile.) “When he gets to his quarters, the door won’t open.”

“You’re welcome,” Gideon says, and Ray grins at the ceiling.

“Then we watch. When he figures out it’s us, we run away. That’s - well, that’s basically it.”

Zari looks thoughtful. “It’s less original than I first thought,” she says.

Ray’s look is admiring. “I don’t know. That’s not bad. Simple, effective.” He grins. “Also, he’s going to kill you.”

“He can try,” Amaya says, checking her watch again. “Okay, he’s out in the next couple of minutes. Go!”   


Ray jogs out of the room behind them, and they duck around the corner from Mick’s door. 

Then they wait.

Ray starts humming a tune that Zari thinks she recognises from  _ The Music Man _ and she pokes him. “Shh!”

“Sorry!” he whispers.

Mick’s arrival down the corridor is heralded by a sound akin to an angry herd of elephants.

He walks _into_ his door. “Hey, Gideon!” he yells.

“Yes, Mr Rory?” comes Gideon’s pleasant tone.

He bangs the door panel ineffectually again. “What’s with my door?”

“I’m sorry, Mr Rory. Mr West has scheduled some routine maintenance for this afternoon. Certain room doors will be unavailable for for the next thirty minutes. Please use alternative rooms.”

Even over Mick’s roaring, Ray still manages to alert him to their presence with his tittering.

They run.

-            -           -

In the kitchen, Sara is having a quiet, lazy afternoon, making coffee and doing some Time Bureau paperwork at the counter. It’s nice to have some calm time to herself, she’s just thinking. 

She stops thinking this when Ray, Zari and Amaya come dashing in, squealing. (“A little help, Wally?” Zari yells behind her.)

Sara raises an eyebrow. “…Is this something your captain should know about?” 

Between the three of them, they manage to get out a combination of “Mick - naked - door locked - Gideon - shower…”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make things much clearer,” Sara says, turning around to stare at Ray, who is now under the table.

Mick walks in, a towel wrapped around his waist - surprisingly politely, Sara thinks.

He goes to the fridge, pulls out bread and cheese, and stands at the counter for a minute, making himself a sandwich.

Then he sits down at the table.

There’s silence.

Eventually he looks up and shrugs. “Hungry,” he says. Then, “You’re annoying bastards.” 

After a minute, he says to Zari, “I once rigged a safe house with explosives to watch Snart have a heart attack.”

She gives him a crooked smile. “For April Fool’s?”

“No. For a Wednesday.” He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “Guess I do bring it on myself.”

She snorts. “Gideon, please release the door controls.”

“Done, Ms Tomaz.”

Mick just sits there, eating his sandwich, until Ray stops giving him pitying looks and goes to fetch him some clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: food.


	6. Feed A Cold (zamaya - Zari Tomaz/Amaya Jiwe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zari's sick. Amaya's trying very hard not to to let it slip that she's adorable.

Amaya touches the panel at the side of the door to sound the buzzer.

“What?” comes Zari’s voice, thin and irritated.

“It’s just me.”

She hears a crash from inside the room, then, “Yeah, okay,” and the door slides open.

Zari is bundled up under a pile of blankets, messy hair falling across her pillow above her. There’s a broken mug on the floor with water spilled everywhere. As the door opens, she pulls the blankets abruptly away from her face. “I’m dying,” she croaks. “Whaddaya want?”

Amaya coughs to cover her giggle. ( _Important note to self: you do not giggle at sick Zari, even if she is adorable._ ) She leans against the door frame and looks querulously at the mess on the floor.

Zari waves vaguely at it. “I was totally going to deal with that.”

Amaya grins, tilts her head. “I can see that. Do you want some help, or...?”

Her head retreats back under the blanket. “Gideon can send a cleaning robot in. Did you want something, or are you here to gawk at the poor sick woman?” 

“I came to see if you were up to coming to the crew meeting, but apparently you got worse,” Amaya replies sympathetically.

Zari has already started moving, in defiance of Amaya’s second comment, but swinging her legs over the side of the bed leaves her groaning.

Amaya is next to her in a second. “Ohhh no you don’t, love,” she says, giving in to laughter, and eases Zari back into bed. “Have you taken anything?”

“Just ibuprofen,” Zari shrugs. “Gideon says there’s nothing else she can do for a virus. Even with 22nd century technology.” She shoots the ceiling a look that predicts death for a certain AI. (Amaya thinks she could do it, too.) “They’ve got tech that can replace  _limbs,_  and they still haven’t got around to curing the common cold. It’s cruel, is what it is.”

Amaya strokes her hair, and Zari sags into her. (Amaya resists another urge, this time to point out how uncharacteristically cuddly Zari is when she’s sick.) Amaya lays her hand across her girlfriend’s head. “I’m getting you a hot water bottle,” she decides. “What else do you need?”

Zari pouts a bit, and plays with the fringe of the blanket. “Can you bring me soup?” she says, with just a hint of a whine in her a voice.

Amaya smiles an ‘aww’ smile, her hand hovering just above her heart. Zari scowls, but Amaya doesn’t stop until she’s made Zari giggle. Then she says, “Sure can. What kind of soup?”

“Chicken noodle. There’s some in the fridge.” She sits up a little bit. “Oh, and tea.”

Amaya gets up. “Soup, tea, coming right up.”

“Ooh. And Gideon fabricated some very awesome fudge the other day,” she says, brightening ever so slightly. “Can you bring some of that?”

“Soup, tea, fudge,” Amaya counts off on her fingers. “Anything else?”

She screws up her nose up in concentration. “Ask Mick if he has any of those brownies left.”

“Soup. Tea. Fudge. Brownies. Okay then.” Amaya spins on her heel, heading for the door.

“Maybe cookies?” Zari mumbles from where she’s snuggled back under the blankets. Only her nose is visible.

Amaya snorts quietly, and again resists the compulsion to tell her how adorably cute she is. That is definitely not what a snarky hacktivist with a bad cold wants to be called. “Coming right up.”

“Amaya?” she hears from behind her, Zari’s voice suddenly small again. She turns back. Zari pops her eyes above the blankets. “Could you maybe skip the meeting and - hang out with me?”

Something in Amaya’s chest gets warm and fuzzy. “Okay. I have to tell you a thing,” she says. She comes back to the bed, and climbs under the blankets with her girlfriend.

“Better be something good,” Zari grumbles. “I feel like shit.”

“Yes. I have to tell you that you are beyond adorable.”

Zari narrows her eyes dangerously. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Absolutely not,” comes the reply, in Amaya’s best and most serious  _I am a warrior of the Zambesi_  voice.

Zari’s narrow glare softens, and she throws her arms around Amaya. (Yup, sick Zari is definitely a more cuddly Zari.) Amaya laughs and nestles against her. “You should also be made aware that I want to kiss you. But I’ll be sick for a week if I do, won’t I?”

“Oh, longer,” Zari grumbles. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Amaya snuggles closer. She thinks snuggling is probably safe.

“Hey,” comes a mumble from Zari, her head buried in Amaya’s hair. “What about my food?”

Amaya shrugs against her. “We’ll have Gideon make Ray bring it. He’s wandering around the ship looking bored today, anyway. Gideon?”

“I have already given Dr Palmer the complete list,” Gideon says cheerfully.

“Good,” Zari murmurs. “And don’t forget the cleaning robot, Gideon,” she adds sleepily.

Amaya curls up under the blankets next to her girlfriend and closes her eyes. Just for a minute. There’s time later for meetings. Time, she thinks blearily, is the one thing they’re not short of around here. And that’s totally what’s she going to tell Sara, when she gets told off later for missing the meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments very welcome. I always reply!
> 
> On tumblr [here](https://sophiainspace.tumblr.com/).


	7. Home (zamaya - Zari Tomaz/Amaya Jiwe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both dream of home.

They both dream of home.

When Amaya dreams, it’s with smiles in her sleep and laughter in the morning, as she leans forward over the coffee pot, telling stories. For Amaya, home is like family - always there for you. You may follow strange roads that take you away for a while, but all paths lead back there, and there will always be a welcome waiting when you wander your way home. 

When Zari dreams of home, it’s with tears in her sleep, and fear in the dark, and bleary eyes and long silences in the morning. Home is a place to run from. To pretend it never happened. 

To make sure it never does.

And across the breakfast table from Zari, Amaya takes her hand and tells her that, while Amaya has breath in her body and they both have totems around their necks, it never will.


	8. Family (Gen - Nate Heywood & Team Legends)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From tumblr prompt, “Tell me about your favourite trans!Legends headcanon.” Became more of a ficlet, so it goes here!

Nate Heywood has a family where no one ever questions the fact that he’s a man. If he asked Sara, or Mick, or Zari, he knows they’d look at him with confusion, and say, of course you are. 

They all know he was mis-designated female at birth. It came up once at a team dinner, between a story from Zari about her brother, and a daring battle tale from Amaya. “Pass the salt, and back around the time of my gender confirmation surgery this thing happened…” And over dessert later, when he’d gained more confidence from their nonchalant reaction, he told them a bit more. And a few of them had questions, but they were exactly as fantastic about it as he thought they’d be. As they _should_  be.

(It helped when they told him about Len. Also, when Sara pointed at Mick and said, “Some of the crew are actual murderers, Nathaniel - why did you think we’d have any worries about you being trans? We accept people for who they are. Stop grinning, Mick, I don’t actually mean you’re allowed to kill people.”)

And when other people in his life aren’t quite that great about it (like his father - sigh), he knows he’s got a family where he can be who he is, and where they love him. Even when he plays heavy metal at 3am, and bores them with stories of civil war battles, and eats the last waffle out of the freezer before Wally can get to it. _Even then._


	9. Time For A Story (Gen - Mick Rory & Ray Palmer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mick,” Ray says over lunch one day, his mouth full of sandwich. “Why is that when you first came on board I wasn’t even sure you could read, and now I never see you without a book in your hand?”

“Mick,” Ray says over lunch one day, his mouth full of sandwich.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Haircut.” 

“Sorry!” Gulping, he carries on. “Why is that when you first came on board I wasn’t even sure you could read, and now I never see you without a book in your hand?”

They’re at the table at the back of the galley. Ray’s looking at some kind of paperwork, and Mick’s pouring over his latest fictional discovery. Gideon’s started leaving him recommendations. Printed lists keep turning up in his quarters. He’s not sure how the AI gets them there, but she always asks what he thinks of the books.

Mick shrugs. Then he fixes Ray with a look. “I’m gonna ignore how you just said you thought I couldn’t  _read_.” Ray’s face gets all scared and apologetic, and Mick really doesn’t have the energy. So he looks back to his book, and just mutters, “Maybe it’s all this time stuck in a metal box with you geniuses. Guess you’re all rubbing off on me.”

Ray scoffs. “Oh come on. That can’t be the whole story.”

Oh god. Haircut’s already looking sad, and Mick hasn’t even said anything even vaguely personal yet. Mick rolls his eyes and puts the book down. “Fine. You want the story?”

_The warm, quiet safety of the barn, whole worlds away from the dread of the house._

Ray puts his elbows on the table and rests his head on his arms. He nods his head too many times.

Mick makes a show of giving the book most of his attention. “I used to read all the time. Loved stories, when I was a kid.”

“So what happened?” Ray prompts.

He starts forming a sentence in reply, then cuts off.

_‘Return to Oz’ on the ground, knocked out of Mick’s hand._

_“What the hell do you think you’re doing, sitting here staring at that trash? There’s things need doing.”_

Patiently waiting, Ray is tapping his fingers together in patterns.

After a second, Mick shrugs. “I dunno. You grow up. No more time for stories.”

“No more… time?” There’s shock on Ray’s expressive face. “I mean,” he rushes out, “I never read a lot. Always preferred TV and movies. But, man. You always gotta find time for stories.”

_The cost of a book, on the streets.  
_

_The space for a book, in foster care, when a single backpack is your whole world._

_The time for a book, between safe houses and heists and life on the road._

“Must be nice to have time for ‘em.” Mick’s grumble has a final tone to it.

Ray presumably gets the message, because they lapse into a comfortable silence again. Ray humming over his paperwork. Mick leaning back in his chair, staring through the ceiling.

“Damn, I read a lot, though,” Mick adds, all in a rush, and Ray looks up. “Ma said I learnt when I was two, or something. I could never stop reading. Kept getting in trouble for it at school. Meant to be doing math or whatever, and always hiding a story under the desk.” He grins. “Sneaking off to wherever was quiet. Bathroom, sometimes. Or under the bed with a flashlight. Just so’s I could finish the adventure, you know?”

The look on Ray’s face is intense, and Mick squirms a bit.

“Hyperlexia,” Ray says. He sounds astonished.

Mick bristles. “That an insult?” 

Wide-eyed, Ray scrambles to say “No!”

Mick considers laughing at him. He scowls instead. “Just tell me what you’re getting at, you wordy goof.”

Ray takes another bite of his sandwich. “It’s a thing,” he says. “With some autistic people, or ADHD. They read early, and they read  _a lot_. But sometimes -” He looks sideways at Mick. “Sometimes they find spoken language much harder.” His gaze turns cautious. “You want me to find you some information on it? I can print some stuff out.”

Mick nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good.” He peers at Ray. “So you were never a big reader, huh?”

Ray snorts. “Not really. Science papers, textbooks, that kind of thing I’m okay with. And I love a good story on screen. But novels and fiction, that’s never been my thing. I don’t know. I can’t focus enough.” He sighs.

“Haircut,” Mick says, grinning, “you telling me I read more than the ship’s genius does?”

Ray smiles a bit wistfully at Mick. “I haven’t read a novel in years. Haven’t read a whole _book_ this year. Oh!” He raises a finger in the air, then points it at Mick.  “But genius is a relative thing. Did you know there’s lots of theories of intelligence?” He gets up and moves towards the coffee machine. “One theory posits that there’s six or eight types…”

But Mick has already tuned him out. The book’s just getting good, and he cares more about what happens to Mr Hyde than whatever Haircut is chattering on about this time.


	10. Talking (Gen - Ray Palmer & Mick Rory)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabble & moodboard prompt fill for my Neurodivergent DCTV month. Prompt was: Ray + Mick + infodumping, gen.

Ray grins at Mick. “You’re a terrible listener, you know that?”

“Am not,” Mick grumbles back.

“Oh, you are.” Ray smiles and his eyebrows twitch.

“I’m a great listener! You just never fucking shut up, Haircut!”

Unperturbed, Ray chuckles. “You know I can never get through an infodump with you?”

“SAY IT!” Mick roars, standing up off the block he’s been sitting on. He folds his arms and glares at Ray across the cargo bay. “SAY I’M A GOOD LISTENER!”

Ray leans back against the wall and laughs. “Fine! You’re an okay listener. Sometimes. When you want to be.” He raises his beer at Mick and toasts him, shaking his head.

Mick plonks himself back down on the storage block. “Why do you do this to me?”

Leaning against the wall, playing with the label of his beer bottle, Ray shrugs. “I like to talk. Saying it out loud gets it all out of my head. Makes it real.” He smiles into the distance. “When I was growing up, I would stand in front of my dresser, line up all my action figures and explain chemistry —” He notices Mick’s look and breaks off. “Right, not important.”

Mick sighs. “Fine, Haircut. Say what you were gonna say about time travel.”

Ray’s face lights up. “Really?”

Mick tries not to smile. “Yeah.”

“So you know the basics, right?” he starts, his hands already in motion. “E=mc2? The Waverider uses the time stream to travel through time, which is basically a quantum wormhole, but there are a number of other hypothetical methods…”

Mick nods, settles back with his beer, and listens.

_[Moodboard image descriptions, clockwise starting top left: Ray Palmer talking to Mick Rory (screenshot from Legends of Tomorrow); two beers clink in the sunset; a puffin yells at another puffin; white text on black background, “There’s no need to repeat yourself. I ignored you just fine the first time”; Ray Palmer talking to Mick Rory (also a Legends screenshot); black-and-white image of a road going down to the sea with the words “silence is better than bullshit”; image of Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street, Ernie yelling into Bert’s ear; image of handwriting with “hey listen!” scribbled several times.]_


	11. Pancakes (Gen - Ray Palmer, Mick Rory, Zari Tomaz)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray likes his pancakes _plain_. Got that, Mick?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my DCTV neurodivergent headcanons month. Prompt: Ray + sensory issues.

“Plain, please,” Ray says, cheerfully, reaching out an expectant hand across the counter.

Mick looks up at Ray from where he’s making a batch of gluten-free pancakes. Then he looks down at the bowl full of strawberries. Then at the bowl of blueberries. Then over at the chocolate syrup, and the maple syrup. Then he says, “…Huh?”

“Plain,” Ray repeats patiently. “No toppings.”

“You eat… your pancakes… plain…” Mick repeats, looking like he’s in significant discomfort.

From over at the table, Zari rolls her eyes at Mick. “Ray’s favourite flavor of pretty much everything is plain, Mick. How have you never noticed?”

Mick shrugs. “Mostly I just put a plate of whatever I’m cooking in front of him and he can fucking like it or lump it,” Mick says.

She rolls her eyes. “And which one of those does he do?” she says with a sarcastic smile.

Mick contemplates. “I guess he mostly doesn’t eat it.”

“Right,” Zari says, scooping up a big forkful of pancakes covered in blueberries and strawberries and three kinds of syrup. “Plain. Favourite flavor,” she says, talking around the mouthful of food.

“Well, it’s not just the flavor thing,” Ray pipes up. “A lot of what you make for us is full of gluten, or the seven other things I’m allergic to - oww, Zari, don’t kick me.”

“Don’t interrupt, Ray. I’m trying to educate our favourite Neanderthal. We can work on the gluten thing in a minute.” Upon seeing Ray’s face, she adds, “Yes, you can tell us about Neanderthals in a minute too.”

“Good,” Ray says, “because some completely inaccurate stereotypes about them get tossed around, and it’s really very unfair on them.”

Zari pats him on the back. “I’m sure they appreciate the hard work you do for their reputation.”

“Probably not,” Ray says. “They’re dead. But, yeah,” he says, now in Mick’s direction. “I don’t like too many flavors. They get a bit much. Spicy food, sweet food, things all mixed together - I don’t know how you guys cope with it all. Oh, and let’s not start on the whole thing with the textures,” he laughs.

Zari takes another forkful, points at Ray with it, and nods meaningfully in Mick’s direction. “See? Plain. Respect Ray’s food needs, Mick.”

Mick growls at her, but he starts to pass Ray a plate of plain pancakes nonetheless.

Ray reaches for the plate, beaming.

Mick pulls the plate away from him.

Ray reaches further across the counter.

Mick pulls the plate further away.

Ray launches himself across the counter to grab at it.

“Can’t I - just - put a few strawberries -”

“NO!”

“But Haircut -”

“GIVE ME MY PANCAKES!”

Zari puts her head in her hands. 

Just as Nate arrives to break it up, and to make sure Ray gets his pancakes.

Plain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: food.


	12. Mess (Gen, Nate Heywood & Mick Rory - possible SteelWave subtext)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate is not an organized person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for my Neurodivergent DCTV month. (Nate shows signs of ADHD here, as he often does in canon!)

Mick is  _seriously_  starting to regret the day that Sara asked whether he’d mind if she assigned Pretty a room next door to his, and he just said, “Whatever.” 

If he’s not being kept awake all hours by music that sounds like someone’s being tortured in the next room, it’s by yelling about time quake discoveries like there’s skill involved. 

The guy’s ridiculously chipper for such a sleep deprived person. 

Apparently the spectrum of noise that Mick finds the most objectionable is called ‘90s Industrial, although it’s nothing like any factory Mick’s ever heard, and he’s robbed a few. 

Once Mick lay awake listening to his next-door neighbour give the same speech three times. When he crashed in to complain, Pretty just looked up with a grin and and said, “I’m presenting on new evidence of Vikings in North America at Syracuse tomorrow. I  _might_  have buried the evidence myself, no big. Presentation’s gonna be great - you wanna hear it?” as though Mick either had any idea what he was talking about, or cared.

And don’t even get Mick started on the  _mess_.

Mick’s trying to write, late one night, when noises akin to a dying cat come drifting between 22nd-century walls that should really be better at keeping the sound out. 

He stalks off to make his opinion on the matter known.

“Dude, I told you. I can’t work without music.”

“So do it in the library!” Mick barks. He’s outside Nate’s room, leaning across the threshold, holding onto the door frame with both arms. He refuses to step inside on health and safety grounds.

Nate shrugs. He bounds over, very nearly tripping on an old t-shirt and what appears to be some kind of cat toy, both just strewn across the ground near the door. “Can’t do that,” he says. “It’s near Sara’s room. She gets mad. And trust me,” he says conspiratorially, “you do not want to piss Sara off. Ever.”

Mick grunts. “You live in a dump,” he observes, not for the first time.

Nate glances around the room and makes a face. “I’m not great at putting things away. But I know where everything is, I swear. Look!” he says, switching topics so fast Mick gets dizzy. He skips back to his desk, gesturing over-enthusiastically. “Come see what I’m doing!”

Laid out on the desk are a map, a timeline, and some history books marked up in red.

“Come on, come on!” Nate urges from the desk, as Mick folds his arms in the doorway. “I’ll get you a beer?”

Scowling, Mick concedes to step  _extremely carefully_  over big piles of dirty laundry, and bigger piles of books, and some half-finished plates of food.

“This is awesome, man,” Nate’s saying. “You remember when we were in fourteenth-century China and ended up watching construction of parts of the Great Wall?

“Yeah,” Mick says, even though he doesn’t remember. He suspects this conversation will go faster if he doesn’t ask for a reminder of what kind of trouble they got into that time.

“Okay, well, check this out!” Nate points to the map. “ _There’s no Great Wall on here!_ ” He throws both arms towards the ceiling.

Mick shrugs. “So what? This shit happens all the time round here. We’ll fix it.”

“Ah!” Nate crows, moving over to the other side of the desk. “That’s what I thought - just another aberration, right?  _Except_! _”_ He points at where he’s circled one of his books in red. Then he stops, and reaches for a cloth. “Sorry, this is not meant to have cheese all over it, hang on,” he says, while Mick rolls his eyes. “Okay, here we go.” He holds up the book as though it’s meant to indicate something to Mick. “All these books give  _entirely different_ and  _completely mutually exclusive_  histories for the Great Wall. And,” he continues, grabbing another map from under his desk, and pulling it up onto the desk. “See where I’ve marked four different places on the map here? These are places where there’s sections of wall that I can’t find described in any of my books.” 

“Okay,” Mick says, almost interested now. He leans against the desk, peering down at the map. “So what’s that?” Mick points at the fifth mark on the map.

Nate scrutinizes it. “Coffee stain. Not the point,” he says, reaching over to try to clap Mick on the back (Mick pulls away just in time). “The point, my dude, is that we have a real life historical mystery on our hands! I’m gonna be up all night researching this! Hmm, I’m gonna need more coffee - Hey, where you going?”

“Bed,” Mick says from the doorway. “You can bore me about this in the morning. Try to keep it down, Pretty.”

Tomorrow, he resolves, he’s going to get Ray to start work on those super-comfortable high tech earplugs he’s been promising to make for Mick ever since Pretty first got on board.

_Original images[here](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fen%2Ftravel-undertaking-adventure-252945%2F&t=MDRmMDE5NDY5YjJmOTA3ZWIwOThmYWJiMmYzYWI5YWM3OTkwZmM1MSx4Y1hTYUhubA%3D%3D&b=t%3ApkmPuh0QnPb1Ee9JHk8FUQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsophiainspace.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173359695068%2Fneurodivergent-character-drabbles-prompt-mick&m=0), [here](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pexels.com%2Fphoto%2Factivity-adventure-blur-business-297642%2F&t=OTgzZDU3NTVkYTY5MDFlOTVjNTgxMGJhNmU5Y2FhYWQzZGQ3NGUwYix4Y1hTYUhubA%3D%3D&b=t%3ApkmPuh0QnPb1Ee9JHk8FUQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsophiainspace.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173359695068%2Fneurodivergent-character-drabbles-prompt-mick&m=0), [here](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.flickr.com%2Fphotos%2Fi-rocksteady%2F5472751123%2Fin%2Fphotolist-9kBheZ-eeK95-GU2YSb-4ngTqX-rC35ke-A5Yvr-Vw9qsn-VgrocU-7oMSEY-6GRNYZ-Kb5iHu-9GRBTc-X9XsHB-kcdxar-aeoyPW-kcfcZj-6Xpiqp-4Euf96-sNuUr-oY3Gg3-7Be8Ch-EcYCL-3gVGb1-2pZgD-9XXJMm-88Yhxr-t6GWUc-fHWBT3-bXtRiL-XXHae2-7vmfyw-3wgpL6-5rcigh-66ukc6-2yn6nu-8EaZdY-JUYdm-8mkT3h-4FTsLn-ytwS7-4y85Ww-UVUgih-UeoATJ-95Tq2m-JV9ht-6hUiWY-5MEnS9-7zroHQ-3dU5MB-5NrCw7&t=ZDQ4YzgxMDg3ZjdkYTU1ZTdmMjdkYmRkMjY3ZDQxYzIwMGE1MmUxZSx4Y1hTYUhubA%3D%3D&b=t%3ApkmPuh0QnPb1Ee9JHk8FUQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsophiainspace.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173359695068%2Fneurodivergent-character-drabbles-prompt-mick&m=0), [here](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pexels.com%2Fphoto%2Fblack-haired-man-wearing-blue-printed-shirt-holding-speakers-743715%2F&t=OWRiYTNiM2I2YThmYTk4ZDQzODRlYzlmZjUxNTI0ZjIwZDg5ZWJjZCx4Y1hTYUhubA%3D%3D&b=t%3ApkmPuh0QnPb1Ee9JHk8FUQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsophiainspace.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173359695068%2Fneurodivergent-character-drabbles-prompt-mick&m=0), [here](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pexels.com%2Fphoto%2Fapple-magic-mouse-and-white-ceramic-mug-1029286%2F&t=YmJkZTlkM2NkMGIxYjVhZTZkYWZhMGE3MWVkZTlkM2FkZTQyZjAyNyx4Y1hTYUhubA%3D%3D&b=t%3ApkmPuh0QnPb1Ee9JHk8FUQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsophiainspace.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173359695068%2Fneurodivergent-character-drabbles-prompt-mick&m=0), and LoT screenshots from [screencapped.net](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fscreencapped.net%2Ftv%2Flegendsoftomorrow%2Findex.php&t=MDM5NzA0NjRmM2ZjMmU5NzMxNmUwYmMyNDgzNmI2ZjY1MzQ5MzhlOCx4Y1hTYUhubA%3D%3D&b=t%3ApkmPuh0QnPb1Ee9JHk8FUQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsophiainspace.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173359695068%2Fneurodivergent-character-drabbles-prompt-mick&m=0)._


	13. Acceptance (Gen - Ray Palmer & Zari Tomaz)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray and Zari have bad days, but they end well - with really terrible TV, and Ray not having to talk (unless he wants to infodump with special interest information pertinent to the TV show), and Zari not having to be nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @jessicamiriamdrew on tumblr: Zari&Ray, acceptance

She storms into his lab at 5 o’clock, at the end of a hellish day.

“You didn’t see me,” she snaps, and collapses into a chair. 

Ray’s smile in reply is strained around the edges, and she winces at herself. “Didn’t mean to yell.” She rocks on the back legs of the chair. “You wanna hear about why our captain is the most irritating person ever to walk the face of Earth-1?” He shrugs, and she glares at him. “Have you entirely given up on spoken communication, or…?” 

He shrugs again. “Not quite,” he murmurs. 

But his face is red, and Zari feels another stab of guilt. “Oh,” she says. She watches him for a minute. Then she gets up, hefting the chair behind her, and comes to sit at the other side of the desk, directly opposite him. She’s careful not to make eye contact, though. She considers the difference between asking him what’s wrong and just providing distraction, and goes for the latter. 

“So Sara said I was - and I quote - ‘moody and irresponsible’. And a lot of other things that were equally not-entirely-accurate. And annoying.”

He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t look up from his work. “What did you do?”

She scowls, mostly at the ceiling. “I didn’t  _do_  anything! Well, okay, I may have forgotten to do a teensy upgrade to the jump ship systems and she may have been unable to get Mick and Nate to the right…” She trails off. “Ray,” she says.

“Mmm?” 

She narrows her eyes at him. He’s looking more stressed by the minute. “Okay. New plan. Name a comfort-food TV show that you’ve never told anyone here you like. We’re going to watch it, and we’re going to tell no one. Gideon will tell everyone that you’re working on - whatever science-y thing you’re doing there -” she gestures at his bench, covered in equipment, “- and that I’m working on the computers, and that we’re not to be disturbed. Right, Gideon?”

“If you insist, Ms Tomaz,” comes the reply from the long-suffering AI, who Zari thinks by now probably expects such things from her.

Ray glances at Zari and gives her half a smile. “Um, are you sure about that? Because I  _could_  suggest some things that you really probably don’t want to watch.”

She makes a dismissive sound. “Raymond Palmer, you know nothing about my taste in video-based entertainment.”

He cocks his head. “I know you called Star Trek ‘ _Days of our Lives_  in space’ last week, and then I had to figure out how you knew what  _Days of our Lives_  is before I could make a counter-argument,” he says.

“It’s still running in the 2040s,” she says, shrugging. She makes an effort not to comment on his returning verbal skills. “Okay, so Star Trek is off the list. Anything else.”

His smile broadens. “Can we watch it  _really quietly?_  Unless I need to comment on something important or explain back story, and then can I pause every ten seconds to do that?”

“Once every two minutes,” she counters. “ _If_  I can bring in a ridiculous amount of popcorn and candy, and complain about how boring it is. And also be grumpy about our fellow crew members. A lot.”

“Negotiation terms accepted,” he says. Then he squints at Zari. “How terrible can this TV show be, and how much can you keep a secret?”

“Terrible as you like, and I give you my solemn word as a member of the Sooper Seekrit Society of Hacktivists. Which is a really very solemn word indeed… Well, more like a very solemn line of code.”

He grins at her. “You’re totally not going to need to complain about how boring this is. Trust me.” He picks up his bag.

“Oh yeah?” she says hopefully. “Let me guess. Hardcore science fiction, lots of very serious science principles behind it, bland characters, hard-to-follow plot?”

He snorts as they leave the lab. “Well, it’s called The Vampire Diaries…”


	14. Coming Home (zamaya - Zari Tomaz/Amaya Jiwe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @jewishgarygreen on tumblr: "zari/amaya: coming home"

They meet in the in-between spaces, over the years. 

Over the rest of their lives.

Zari takes the jump ship to 1940s Zambesi, where Amaya is always waiting for her, even if messages have sometimes been a struggle to get through. And they hang fabric around the jump ship like curtains to make it a bit less of the unfeeling Waverider-gray. And for three glorious days, it’s home.

Sometimes Santi will be there too - over the years their mutual respect as metamours has become something much closer to love than Zari could ever have imagined. And sometimes Zari comes to Zambesi, watching Esi grow up - and then Mari and Kuasa - with the kind of fondness and pride that means family.

But more often than not, Amaya’s family graciously gives them space. “We get you for something like 355 days a year,” Santi always says, as he kisses his wife goodbye. “Let Zari have you all to herself for just a few days, my love. You both deserve it.”

And later, when Zari works for the Time Bureau, sometimes Ava’s eyes will soften at her. And the keys to a time ship will be passed to her, on the understanding that it is back in its docking bay on a specified deadline. It always is.

(Zari’s learnt by now, with all this travelling through time, that you don’t gain anything by staying longer and returning just after you left. It catches up with you, eventually, in time drift and strange ageing effects.)

(Not that she didn’t try a few times, though.)

Much later still, when Zari’s running ARGUS in the 2050s, it’s more of a challenge to reach Amaya, separated by a century and half a world as they are, but they always find a way. Zari’s been known to hijack ARGUS technology that she’s  _really_  not supposed to be using that way, ripping the universe open to get to Amaya. Because there’s nothing that can stand between Zari Tomaz and Amaya Jiwe, and Zari’s going to make sure the universe damn well knows it.

But wherever and whenever they are able to be together, it’s home.


	15. I Was an Island (Before You Came Along) (AtomWave - Mick Rory & Ray Palmer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick's not great at apologies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @terrayoung on tumblr for Ray and Mick (platonic or romantic) + title: I Was an Island (Before You Came Along).
> 
> I left it ambiguous as to whether it's platonic or romantic...

And so the day finally comes when Mick loses his rag at all of Ray’s attempts to get him to be more sociable (and be tidier, and eat healthier, and wear brighter clothes, and try harder at stuff, and not keep rats in the kitchen).

A lot of shouting ensues. Mostly on Mick’s part, with Ray looking less and less comfortable by the minute, but trying to play referee in his own argument nonetheless - ever the team peacemaker. 

Mick gets louder and more frustrated. Finally, he yells that he never wanted  _friends_. That he wishes he’d never left Aruba - that he’d never met the Legends - that he’d never met  _Ray._

And, too late, Mick realises he’s fucked up - when Ray’s big eyes fill with tears and he just says “…Oh,” and slinks out of the kitchen without another word.

It’s four long days before Ray will say anything to Mick again, and even then it’s only brief, sharp, work-related comments.

So Mick finds himself starting to leave food around for Ray. Slowly at first - a bag of candy on a lab work bench here, a box of cereal on the table in his room there. 

Still nothing, though, except for the occasional strained “Sara wants to see you” or “Nate said to bring you this,” followed by Ray stalking away.

Then comes Saturday (if you can trust Gideon’s internal clock - Mick suspects she occasionally does two Tuesdays in a row just to mess with him). But he does know that it’s been six days since he last had an actual conversation with Ray. Mick thinks maybe he… misses Ray.

So he gets up at what he thinks is an ungodly hour (but is probably actually about 9 o’clock), ropes in Zari and Nate to help, and starts work on the biggest brunch feast he’s ever attempted to make, in all his years of cooking. Of which there have been quite a few.

There’s eggs done three different ways (because he can’t quite remember which way Haircut likes them, but he knows it’s one of these three ways). Stacks of pancakes - some buckwheat, some made out of that disgusting gluten-free flour that makes stuff that tastes like cardboard, but that Ray actually seems to like. Hash browns - Ray’s favourite - by the dozen. That sugary kids’ cereal Ray eats when he’s sad. Biscuits (also gluten-free) with gravy. Actual fruit in a dozen varieties, thanks to the fabricator - Mick thinks that’s weird for breakfast, but the others seem think it will go down well with the ship’s resident health-food freak. Bagels and English muffins - he curses himself for not thinking ahead and baking them himself, but he at least has the ingredients to make a few kinds of toppings, so he does. At which point Zari says, “Mick, I’m the last person to suggest anyone should  _stop_  making food, but you’ve got enough here that we’re going to have to invite the entire Time Bureau over for breakfast.” 

And then Ray walks in.

And he looks at Mick.

And says “For me?” in a small voice.

Mick coughs. “Yeah,” he replies. He looks at his feet. He hasn’t thought about this part. He’s been too busy cooking. 

But it’s fine, because he suddenly has an armful of Haircut. Whose eyes are full of tears again, but this time Mick doesn’t mind so much.

Eventually everyone else finishes, heading back to rooms or workspaces or the bridge, complaining about how they’ll never be able to move again and considering mid-morning naps, until it’s just Ray and Mick left in the kitchen. 

Mick listens to Haircut talking, fast and cheerful, about his plans to upgrade Wally’s suit. And Mick thinks, well, he’d better get this out of the way, in case Ray decides to go back to not talking to him again later. So he coughs again, and looks right at Ray, who stops talking. 

“Yes?” Ray says. Mick swears there’s a bit of a smile around Ray’s eyes.

“I didn’t mean it,” Mick mumbles.

The hint of a smile gets wider, and Ray raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, Mick. I don’t think I heard that. You wanna try again?”

Mick scowls at him. “I didn’t mean it when I said I wished I never met you,” he says, loudly. “You asshole,” he adds for good measure.

Ray grins, and crunches into an apple. “What about when you said you wished you’d never left Aruba?”

Mick bobs his head from side to side a few times, thinking. “It was nice,” he admits. “But I kinda missed you freaks.” He glances at Ray, who smiles at him. “Got too hot after a while, too. I might not be made for the island life.”

“Oh really?” Ray says, with a twinkle in his eye.

“Shut up.”

Ray does that for a minute, grinning, before going right back to chattering away about super-suits with that  _look_  on his face, the one that means all is right in his world. 

Mick decides he likes that look.


	16. Honeymoon (zamaya - Zari Tomaz/Amaya Jiwe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @stillthewordgirl on tumblr: zamaya, honeymoon.
> 
> Comes with a moodboard - see [here](https://sophiainspace.tumblr.com/post/173829370329/prompt-zamaya-honeymoon) :)

“You ladies are in luck!” the receptionist at the hotel desk is saying.

(Zari sighs audibly at ‘ladies.’)

Dressed in colorful 1950s party getup, Amaya and Zari are standing in the lobby of a big city hotel. Grand coffee tables and plush red chairs liberally dot the vast floor space beneath an imposing marble staircase. The room is crowded with the toast of the ‘50s New York social scene. Amaya bumps Zari’s shoulder and tells her she’s pretty sure the congressman ascending the stairs is John Kennedy. 

Zari shrugs and doesn’t bother to look. She adjusts the arm of her long blue dress, where it’s riding down under her silver shawl. Then she adjusts her expression into one that she hopes suggests this is the last place in the multiverse she wants to be. 

Amaya - who, Zari has to admit, is stunning in her mid-length green dress - gives Zari’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, then turns back to the desk. “In luck?” she asks the receptionist.

“Well, we’re overbooked and I’m gonna need to upgrade you,” the receptionist says. “I have the best room in the house left for you, hon. No extra charge. But,” she giggles awkwardly, “I’m afraid it’s the honeymoon suite. Don’t worry, though!” she rushes on. “It’s got two separate rooms. One of you can take the gorgeous king bed, and the other one can have her choice of  _very_  comfortable twin beds in the room next door.”

Zari rolls her eyes at the blatant heteronormativity and gets a warning look from Amaya. She fixes her face into a smile.

“That sounds just lovely,” Amaya is saying.

The keys are passed over, and they crowd into an elevator with too many other people.

“Let’s just get through this mission,” Zari grumbles. “I want to get out of here, and out of these clothes,” she says as she jerks her sleeve up again, “and go home. To my ship, where they have the internet. And where the people aren’t racist homophobes pretending to be nice for appearances’ sake.”

Amaya nods as they walk down the corridor to their room. “And on that point - weren’t you surprised the 1950s hotel receptionist just gave the best room in the house to two lone women of color?”

Zari’s about to reply, opening the door. She stops up short at the sight. The room is opulent and extravagant, with a big fireplace under a high ceiling, comfy-looking armchairs, and a huge canopy bed.

Zari reaches down and picks up a handwritten note off the bed. “Have fun,” she reads aloud to Amaya. “Blame Gideon - it was her idea. With all our love, Sara, Ray, Nate, Mick and Wally.” Zari groans. “Our interfering teammates apparently think we need a night to relax. Behind our backs! Not cool.” She trails off into muttering.

“Oh my god, they’re the sweetest,” Amaya says, laughing and grabbing the note from Zari.

“I’m glad one of us thinks this is funny,” Zari says, glowering.

“Well, we’re here now,” Amaya replies, with a twinkle in her eye. “What  _should_  we do with ourselves till morning?” 

Slowly, a reluctant smile spreads across Zari’s face, and she pulls her girlfriend into a kiss. Then she pulls away suddenly. “We could start,” she says, “by slipping into something more comfortable?”

Amaya unhooks the first button at the back of Zari’s dress, and Zari groans with relief. “I think you love comfortable clothes more than you love me,” Amaya says, winking.

“You’re not wrong,” Zari agrees, as she lets her girlfriend rid them both of those awfully troublesome 1950s outfits.


	17. Freedom (Gen, Zari Tomaz & Ray Palmer)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @jewishgarygreen on tumblr: Zari + freedom

There’s not a soul on the Waverider who knows that Zari never unpacked.

She still hasn’t - not really. Oh sure, she took a few clothes out of her suitcase. Not many. 

(She’s just enjoying all the choices available to her in Gideon’s fabrication room.)

But on the bottom shelf of a closet, she’s got bags all packed, ready to go. 

At first, she was just staying till she found her family. If anyone can track down missing people, it’s her, especially with of all Gideon’s resources. But there’s nothing. She can go back to any time she wants, but it’s always going to be too late.

Staring out of the window on the bridge, into the vast expanse of the time stream that stretches on and on without end, all Zari can feel is _trapped_.

“Penny for ‘em,” says the most cheerful voice on the ship, behind her.  


She turns and gives Ray a half smile. “You don’t wanna know,” she says, muted, and his face falls. And she wants to kick herself, because no one should be putting _that_ look on Ray Palmer’s face, least of all her. Ray has this thing for fixing people when they’re sad (she doesn’t know what to do with that and it makes her want to hug him and kill him at the same time). So she broadens her smile, even if it’s a strained one, and says, “Don’t worry about it.” 

He gets the strangest look, then, and steps towards her. He reaches for her totem, then pauses. “Can I?” he asks hesitantly.

She shrugs, watching as he reaches towards her heart and touches the jewel at its centre with the tip of a finger. “I tried to master one of these,” he muses. “Wasn’t for me.” He smiles. “This is _yours_ , though. I kind of get that now, I think.” He looks up and meets her eyes. “An air totem for a free spirit.”

She doesn’t say anything. Just watches him.

“You feeling a bit… cooped up?” he asks after a moment.  


She narrows her eyes at him. “Maybe. Why?”

“I was thinking we could take the jump ship out. Get you some open space.”  


If she looks at him suspiciously for a moment, irritated and touched and a bit confused all at once (why is he so _kind_ to her?), she shakes it off in a minute. And smiles.

Under an open sky on a lonely clifftop in medieval France, she lifts her hands and takes flight.

Here, in the clear blue where air meets air, she shares the totem with Behrad and all the bearers who came before her. Beneath her spreads out all of creation, and she is its protector, vice-regent of the breath that inspires all life.

She looks down at Ray below her - mystic to scientist - she who knows the air by name and spirit, and he who knows it by atom and molecule. 

He’s running in the wind on the edge of the cliff. The sunshine boy’s face is radiating pure joy and freedom.

Zari giggles so hard she falls out of the sky. 

When they get home to the Waverider, she takes just a few more things out of her suitcase.


	18. Romantic Gestures (ColdAtom - Leonard Snart/Ray Palmer)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @secondstarthenstraightuntilmorn: Maybe some coldatom and rosepetals where Ray was trying to be romantic and have like a trail of rosepetals leading to the bedroom but not realizing len is a clean freak so instead of a romantic evening Len is standing in the bedroom door frustrated with arms full of rose petals and his eyes twitching and Ray's just kinda like. Oh boy.
> 
> Chapter content warnings at end.

_Everything is fine._

_Count to ten._

_Everything is fine._

_1, 2, 3 -_

“Oh, hi Leonard!”

He winces, and ploughs on.

_4, 5, 6 -_

Ray’s over by the bed, laying down the last of enough rose petals that he must have ordered multiple bouquets. (The trail started at the bridge and went around three corridors.) Ray’s once-excited face is already showing cracks. But he’s just going to have to wait. 

“You’re probably wondering why -” Ray tries again.

Frozen in the doorway, Leonard takes a deep breath and holds up a finger.

Ray’s face falls further. “Okay, but -”

“Raymond,” he interrupts, slow and just a little bit dangerous, “I strongly suspect that you’d prefer it if I  _didn’t_  just turn around, bolt, and refuse to come back for many days. So just give me a second, ‘k?”

Ray nods, and Leonard recommences, closing his eyes.

_…7, 8, 9, 10._

“Okay,” he breathes. 

Then he looks properly at Ray’s face, now a picture of self-doubt. Leonard winces again, at himself this time. He beckons Ray over, who leaps up from the bed and into his arms.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Ray mumbles against his chest, and Leonard chuckles. 

“No,” he says, aiming for as sincere a tone as he can manage. “You’re sweet. I get that you’re all about the grand romantic gestures.” He sighs. “Sorry that I’m… not.”

“Is it the mess, or…?”

Leonard nods mutely. They can broach the rest another time. He’s upset his puppy-eyed nerd enough for one night. “What were you planning beyond -” he gestures around the room, “- this?”

Ray scrunches up his eyes. “Dinner,” he said. “I’ve got it all made. The crew’s giving us the kitchen for the night. Then, you know.” He grins. “Other stuff.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re adorable and I’m sorry. Again.”

Ray pulls away and looks at him. “It’s really not my fault?”

He shakes his head. “Birthdays,” he mutters. “Not really my thing.” Ray’s intense replying gaze, a mix of confusion and empathy, is a little much for Leonard, and he averts his eyes. 

Then Ray grins. “Come on,” he says. “We’re going to eat two excellent fillet steaks complemented by a fantastic bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon - no, don’t look like that, you’re just gonna _try_  it, Leonard, I’ve also got beer if you want - and you’re going to relax. And I’m going to try not to spring any more surprises on you for the rest of the evening.”

“That sounds… nice,” he admits. He lets Raymond lead him by the hand towards the galley. 

For the millionth time since he got onto this ridiculous ship of fools, he briefly wonders what his life has become and where he left his old one.

And then Raymond squeezes his hand tighter and doesn’t let go. And Leonard smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: hints of a panic attack (very controlled); food and alcohol references.


	19. The Ground Beneath Your Feet (Gen, Sara Lance & Zari Tomaz)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her smile turns wry, a little sad. “You know I know twenty-three martial arts?” she says, apparently apropos of nothing. Zari didn’t know that, and the thought is another terrifying one—but she nods, not interrupting. Sara looks down at her hands. “In some martial arts, the only opponent is... you. I always found that comforting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene set towards the end of ‘Legends of Tomorrow’ episode 3x15, Necromancing the Stone.

When Zari walks in on Sara in the cargo bay, she’s sitting cross-legged, hands clasped in front of her with the middle fingers knotted together. Zari attempts to slink away immediately, but Sara smiles, eyes still closed. “I know you’re there. It’s okay, Zari.” 

Zari cringes. “That’s terrifying. How do you do that?” 

Sara’s smile broadens. “I can usually tell you who’s walked into a room. Eyes open or shut.”

Zari shivers a bit, hoping Sara didn’t notice, although she figures that’s unlikely. “I didn’t realise you were—” Zari pauses. “Praying? Meditating?”

“A little of both,” Sara shrugs, opening her eyes. “Leaning towards the meditation thing.” Zari nods. 

Sara pats the ground next to her. Zari raises her eyebrows—then shrugs, and sits.

“Kuji kiri,” Sara clarifies, when she sees Zari looking at her hands, now dropped down onto her lap but not yet unclasped. “A Shingon Buddhist meditation technique.” 

“Ah,” Zari says, a little lost.

“Ninja stuff. Literally.” Her smile turns wry, a little sad. “You know I know twenty-three martial arts?” she says, apparently apropos of nothing. Zari didn’t know that, and the thought is another terrifying one—but she nods, not interrupting. Sara looks down at her hands.“In some martial arts, the only opponent is... you. I always found that comforting.” 

Zari feels her brow creasing. “It wasn’t your fault, Sara,” she says quietly. “It  _wasn’t_  you.”

“That’s not—” Sara shakes her head, and shifts into a looser sitting position, legs half-folded beneath her. “It used what it found in me. That’s okay. I know what I am.” Her eyes widen a little, watching phantoms in dark corners, and she’s quiet for a while. Then she says, “Zari, can I ask you a religious question?”

Zari doesn’t know where  _that_  came from, but— “Sure.”

Sara looks at her. “Is it weird, when we’re in space or the time stream, praying—without a Mecca to face?”

Leaning back against a storage cube, Zari thinks for a minute. “It was at first.” She huffs a laugh. “Gideon’s got her ways of calculating things. She told me she was ‘perfectly accustomed to calculating Shabbat for Professor Stein and Doctor Palmer without a reference point in real time.’” Sara cocks her head, smiling at the Gideon impression. “And that between us we could figure out hypothetical reference points for Mecca based on our last location in real time and space.” Zari shrugs. “But, well. God is everywhere.” A vague wave of her hand takes in their surroundings. “Even in this messy time stream stuff. But yeah, it can be a bit weird. Unfamiliar.”

“Like the earth fell out of the sky,” Sara muses, her eyes fixed on the metal floor. “I believe in the ground beneath my feet,” she says. “Always have. Even before the League and all the martial arts training, I meditated every day—just feeling the earth below me, you know?” She sighs, rapping her knuckles against grey steel with a toneless, artificial  _ding._  “There’s nothing beneath us. Sometimes I can really feel that.”

“Hmm.” Zari draws out the sound, taking Sara in. She looks a little tired, but so much less worse for wear than some people would be after an experience like the one she endured only hours before. Zari thoughts drift unexpectedly to the women of Themiscyra, all twice Sara’s sizeand just as unrelenting.  _Warriors_...

She feels Sara draws in a sudden breath next to her. “I’m sick of doing things I don’t wanna do,” she says in a whisper. In her lap, her hands have clenched into fists.

Zari leans back hard against the crate. “I used to work in a really dreary office.” Seeing Sara’s wrinkled brow, she shrugs and says, “Computer support stuff.”

Sara laughs, visibly relaxing a little. “No way. You were in tech support?”

“For like a month, before I died of boredom. Are you gonna listen to the story or make snarky comments?”

Snorting, Sara gives a ‘carry on’ wave.

“We had those horrific inspirational posters all over the walls, right?”

“It makes me sad that those survive into the 2040s,” Sara says.

Zari rolls her eyes. “Not as sad as it made me. I had to sit under them every day. No lie, the one above my desk was the word LEADERSHIP under a picture of a lighthouse, with some spiel about how leaders are a light in the darkness. Made me want to vomit every morning.” At Sara’s raised eyebrow, she says darkly, “Leaders in the 2040s lean less towards the inspirational lighting of the way, and more towards the boot in people’s faces.”

Sara nods, her face serious again.

“Okay, there’s totally a point to this story. There was one poster I kind of liked. It was corny, really. Hung up on the back of a toilet door. It said, ‘When the going gets tough, put one foot in front of the other and keep walking.’” She laughs. “That’s terrible poetry. And a bit of a trite message, now that I say it out loud. But—well, I think about that a lot. The weirdest things get you through.” Tapping the floor, she adds, “Like feeling the ground beneath your feet.” 

Sara’s still searching out shadows across the floor. “Even if it’s all time stream underneath, all the way down?” 

Zari shrugs. “Ship’s still holding you up, isn’t it?”

Mouth pulled into a tight line, Sara eventually says, “Sometimes.”

“Okay then,” Zari nods. “While it is, put your feet on the ground, and keep walking.”

Sara breathes in slowly. “I have to go apologise to some people.”

“Did you finish your meditation?”  

She shakes her head.

Putting a hand on Sara’s shoulder, Zari says. “Feet on the ground first.” She stands up. “I’ll be in the med bay in a bit.”

At the door, Zari stops and looks back. Sara has her hands back in the same folded position as before, eyes closed, legs crossed. She doesn’t look altogether peaceful—her face telling too many ghost stories for that—but she seems a little more steady.

When she gets out into the hallway, she stops. “Gideon, what’s the time by the ship’s clock?” 

“19.50,” the AI replies. “At our last port in Memphis, sunset was at 19.40.”

Zari nods. “Close enough,” she says, and heads to her room for  _Maghrib_  prayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [minachandler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minachandler/pseuds/minachandler) for help with a question about the Islamic faith.


	20. Six Ways To Say I Love You (gen/zamaya at end)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, how Zari tells the team how she feels about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Zari Tomaz Week.

****Wally** **

She’s leaning against the engine room wall, coding pad in hand, while Wally has his entire head inside an engine cylinder. He’s talking her through an engine upgrade. It’s going a little over her head, but she’s backing him up with code. It’s working.

“You’re a genius, Wally.”

Wally ducks his head. “Am not.”

“No, you are. You’ve got a way with this—” she slaps the cylinder, “ _machine_ that I never will. You’re a real engineer.”

His smile is shy. “Thanks.”

A brief, companionable silence. Then Gideon, in something akin to a sigh, says, “ _Please_ don’t call me a machine.”

 

****Ray** **

They’re trapped behind a rock.

Apparently, this is Zari’s life now.

“Ray,” she hisses.

“Hi!”

“What’s our exit strategy?”

He looks nervous. “Our what?”

Great. They’re going to die.

Later, they’re in the kitchen eating popcorn. (Ray specified “microwaved.”)

Zari sighs. “You drive me nuts, you know that?”

“Because of the popcorn?”

“No, Ray. Because ‘I’m _sure_ the monster is friendly,’ and having to blast our way back to the Waverider.”

His forehead scrunches sadly. “Oh. Sorry.”

She laughs. “It’s fine. You can keep driving me crazy.”

“Thanks!”

“Just, y’know, without endangering my life next time.”

“I can’t promise anything.”

 

****Nate** **

She has no idea why she let him drive. When she offered him the map, he said, “Oh god, you don’t want me navigating. I’ll navigate us off a cliff.”

And now he’s getting awfully close to _driving_ them off it.

She grabs the wheel from him, and they narrowly avoid plummeting into the ravine. “Nate, what made you think you could drive through a time quake?”

“I know time quakes! I invented the time seismograph.”

She gives him a look. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

”Hey!”

“I mean that in the best way possible.”

“Oh. Okay, then. Thanks.”

 

****Mick** **

“Mick,” she sighs deeply. “Why is the cargo crate on fire?”

He shrugs, most of his attention still consumed with fascination. “You said to get rid of it.”

“I said to get rid of the _problem._ The anachronistic books inside the crate.” Two hundred copies of Dracula had just showed up in a twelfth-century Transylvanian village, causing a bit of a panic.

He waves his hand towards the fire. “I did.”

She death-glares at him. “You gave us a new problem!”

“Fixed the last one, though, didn’t I?” He looks remarkably proud of himself.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“Aww. Thanks.”  
********

****Sara** **

She’s working late on the bridge with the captain. They’re trying to solve the problem of the literal Hansel and Gretel house that’s appeared in Cleveland, complete with a green-faced witch who puts kids in ovens.

She yawns into her coding pad.

There’s a hand on her shoulder. “When did you last get any sleep?”

Zari blinks. “What _is_ time in the temporal zone, anyway?”

A very captain-y look crosses Sara’s face. “Don’t give me that. Go sleep.”

“But—”

“ _Now_ , Zari.”

She laughs. “You’re a sweetheart, Sara.”

“Oh god. Don’t tell anyone else that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

 

****Amaya** **

Amaya puts her head around Zari’s door one afternoon. “What are you up to?”

Hiding the controller behind her back, Zari says, “Not wasting time playing video games, that’s for sure.”

“Come on, then.” Amaya beckons her out.

_“Where?”_

Amaya claps her hands together. “We’re gonna make cookies.”

Shrugging, Zari follows her down the corridor. “What brought on the sudden baking urge?”

A hand arrives in hers. “I missed you.” She shrugs. “Also, I really need sugar.”

Zari stops dead in the middle of the corridor, turning to look at her. “I love you, you know.”

Amaya smiles. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew on the following prompts for a couple of these drabbles: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/572379433877067070/  
> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/743868063425687340/
> 
> Comments very welcome. I always reply!
> 
> On tumblr [here](https://sophiainspace.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](https://sophiainspace.tumblr.com/).
> 
> (I love comments and always reply!)


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